


The Stockholm

by elsalovelove



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bipolar Disorder, Blow Jobs, Child Abuse, Criminal!Phil, Crossover, Dan Howell Is Not A Youtuber, Dark!Phil, Depression, Escaped Prisoner!Phil, Fluff, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Past Abuse, Phan Johnlock Crossover, Phil Lester Is Actually A Sweetheart, Phil Lester Is Not A YouTuber, Phil is a Pscyhopath, Psychopath!Phil, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Harm, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Smut, Stockholm, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, as always
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsalovelove/pseuds/elsalovelove
Summary: “I could kill you right now, right here,” said the man. He had a low, gravely voice. “I could crack your neck with one hand.”Before Dan could answer, the man grabbed his hair again and crushed his lips against his own. Dan couldn’t fathom what was happening, but he knew that it was wrong,god, it was so wrong.But he liked it.Why did he like it?





	1. Why Do I Like It?

Eyes fluttering open, he took in his surroundings. He was where he had fallen asleep; in a lodge where he and his girlfriend, Amy, had flown to for a Summer vacation.

 

“Wha—?” He groaned. His head hurt like hell. Reaching the back of his head, he patted the area where it was the sorest. When he brought his hand forward, there was blood smeared on it. 

 

“What the hell,” he muttered. 

 

He looked sideways, where Amy had fallen asleep next to him. She was gone.

 

He sighed. He never wanted to come to this trip anyway. He had been about to tell Amy that they should probably end their relationship now when she had interrupted him with a vacation plan.

 

It wasn’t that Dan didn’t like Amy. He did. It’s just that… well, his love for her had cooled down. He couldn’t see her pretty face as beautiful now, and he couldn’t see her talkative personality as charming.

 

They just weren’t meant for each other.

 

He huffed as he rolled out of the uncomfortable bed, his head smarting. God, his body hurt all over. What had he done to hurt himself yesterday? They had arrived almost at midnight and crashed into their bed; nothing that could’ve injure him.

 

He flinched when his feet caught in a heavy object. As he squinted, he recognized the object as a… metal… choker?

 

_What the fuck_.

 

Was that the thing that was in his mouth when he woke up? _What the fuck_ , he chanted in his head. His breathing elevated, and he looked around the room.

 

Where was Amy? It wasn’t like her to leave him while he was still asleep. She always waited until he woke up and then giggled. Was she mad at him?

 

“Amy?” He called as he walked out the cold bedroom out into a long hallway. Dimly, he could see the living room. “Amy?”

 

He checked the living room and the kitchen, but there was no sign of her. There were a simple welcome note and a bowl of fruit.

 

Finally, he knocked on the multipurpose room door. His hands were shaking; his headache hadn’t gotten much better, and he kept licking and biting his lips. When he heard no answer, he pushed open the door.

 

He sighed with relief as all tension left his body. Amy was seemingly sound asleep on a couch next to the bookshelf. 

 

“Amy, gosh, I have this horrible headache,” he mumbled and tapped her shoulder. “You gotta wake up. It’s… what, one in the afternoon? C’mon, let’s go get something to eat.”

 

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even open her eyes. Her skin felt cold, and that made Dan’s blood go cold, too.

 

“A — Amy? Amy, are you asleep, or what? C’mon, don’t play jokes on me. Y’know I get scared easily.”

 

He kept shaking her, but her head kept rolling back, and he couldn’t catch any telltale signs that she was pulling a prank. No flutter of eyelids, not smirk slid off her lips. “Amy!”

 

His breathing had gotten out of his control, and he was trembling all over now. His head spun, and his headache amplified, but he couldn’t care less. He shook her with all his strength, screaming her name. He didn’t care if this was a prank. _If_ this was a prank, then Amy had gone too far now. She’d crossed the line.

 

“She won’t wake up. She’s dead.”

 

He froze at a low voice. His breathing and the pounding of his heart filled the room, and he tried to reach his phone, frantically scrambling for his pocket. He realized with a cold feeling that he had left his phone in his bag.

 

_Shit._

 

He had to get them out of this. Whatever the hell _this_ was, he had to get both of them safely out. The word _Amy_ and _dead_ didn’t connect in his head; his brain was malfunctioning. He couldn’t understand what was happening at all. Maybe he's watched too much horror movies.

 

Lunging forward, he grabbed Amy by her shoulders and hoisted her up. He bit his chapped lips, trying to ignore how heavy she was. 

 

Suddenly, he was yanked back by his hair. He yelped, and he was forced to let go of Amy, who fell to the ground with a _thud._

 

A man wrapped his arms around him, and Dan shivered. He knew that there was no way out of this situation. The man was too strong. 

 

“Look at your own hands,” said the man into his left ear. Dan’s breathing hitched as the man’s lips brushed against his ear shells. He tried to focus on his hands. They were red. Why were they red? “Look at all the blood. She’s dead.”

 

Dan began gagging. He ripped himself from the man as he ran to the bathroom. He could hear the pounding of feet as the man chased after him, but his head was too heavy to compute anything. 

He frantically searched for a toilet bowl, his free hand tightly gripping his mouth. When his hands bumped against cold plastic, he fell to his knees and trembled and choked into the bowl, heaving his insides out.

 

He was yanked back again, his throat in the air. The man growled in his ear again, “Get into the bedroom.”

 

“Please, please, I’ll give you anything,” Dan begged. Tears and trickles of vomit mixed and fell down. “I’m sorry, I’m really really sorry. I’m going to choke to death, please, help me.”

 

Dan squirmed in the grip of the man, trying to get a glimpse. He seemed to have jet-black hair, translucent skin, and a hooked nose. The word _attractive_ passed his mind before he mentally slapped himself.

 

Before he could think about anything else, he was dragged out of the bathroom and into the hall. He kept bumping into furniture and walls, and his head felt as if it were splitting in half. He hurt all over.

 

“Please, please, I’ll give you anything,” he begged. His vision was foggy, and he felt as if he was drowning. He tried to swim back to the surface and take a gulp of air, but the waves kept dragging him back.

 

“You _do_ have something to give me,” said the man. 

 

When they finally arrived at the bedroom that Dan had been sleeping in, the man shut the door with a _bang_ and slammed him against it. Dan could now properly look at him. 

 

The man was wearing a black T-shirt, and he had a pale face. He had jet-black, emo hair — though to be fair, Dan had one as well, only his was chestnut brown. His icy blue eyes were framed with spectacles that fit him well. Dan couldn’t look away from his eyes. 

 

The man leaned into him even more so that their noses were almost touching. Dan tried to calm down his erratic breathing. Breathless, he begged, “Please, I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

 

“I could kill you right now, right here,” said the man. He had a low, gravely voice. “I could crack your neck with one hand.”

 

Before Dan could answer, the man grabbed his hair again and crushed his lips against his own. Dan couldn’t fathom what was happening, but he knew that it was wrong, _god, it was so wrong_. But he liked it.

 

Why did he like it?

 

Thoughts left his head as the man pushed his way into his mouth, his tongue intruding every part of his mouth. Dan could barely keep up with the rushed pace, and once again, he felt as if he was drowning. His back pushed flush against the cold wall, he desperately tried to kiss back the attractive man.

 

Dan let out a breathy moan as the man nipped at his bottom lip before sliding down to bite down hard on his throat. That was going to leave a mark for sure. For some reason, that turned him on even more. At this point, he was too far gone to care that this man had just killed his girlfriend.

 

He snaked his hands into the intruder’s hair, whining needily. _God, his neck._ He was most sensitive there.

 

Dan felt the man smile against the bruise forming on his throat at the noises he was making. “Hmm, you like that? Aren’t you a little whore.”

 

Dan moaned more, his back arching when the man roughly pushed his shirt so that he could get access to his breastplate. The man started nipping at the sensitive buds.

 

“Stop,” he sobbed. He didn’t want it to stop. That was the problem. Everything was corrupt in his head. He felt obligated to tell the stranger to stop considering the situation, but he didn’t want it to stop. He wanted it to continue so badly.

 

“You don’t mean that,” said the man, chuckling a bit. 

 

Whining, he heaved in relief. “God, god, please.”

 

Dan heard a few more chuckles. The man raked his hands up the sides of his body, savoring every curve. Before he could beg for more, the man said in a rough voice, “Get onto your knees.”

 

Without even thinking about it, he fell to his knees, staring up at the man through his lashes. All he could think was that he wanted to please and satisfy this strange yet attractive man. It was so revolting to think about it, but he couldn’t stop anticipating the moment that his lips would touch the man’s cock.

 

He scrabbled at his jeans, begging for access, and the man complied, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his jeans, leaving him only in boxers. 

 

The room was only filled with heated moans and rough breathing. Dan waited for the man’s signal to pull down the last bit of clothing, his own length growing in his pants. The man’s blue eyes were almost black now, his pupils dilated. His hair was ruffled from Dan’s gripping at them earlier.

 

Finally, after the heated eye contact that Dan had been sure that he wouldn’t have been able to hold for a second longer, the man tugged at his own briefs and grabbed Dan’s back of the head, beckoning him forward.

 

With relief, he fell forward and was forced against the tip of the man’s large cock. The man tugged at his hair, commanding him to move forward and swallow around him. With a loud moan, he sank down and took the man’s length. He tried to use his tongue to the best of his ability, swirling them and making sure to flick them at just the right pressure in the all the right places. He was rewarded by more hair yanking and groans from above.

 

He desperately needed to get to his own hardening cock, but as he started to reach down, his wrist was trapped in the man’s iron-like grip. He felt the man still and gather both of his wrists into his hand, whispering, “No. Don’t touch yourself. Let me see you come untouched.”

 

Whining, he tried to reach down again, but this time, the man pulled his arms hard, hard enough to prevent him from trying the third time. Breathless, he begged, “But I need—”

 

“You don’t,” said the man simply. Grabbing Dan’s hair with his free hand again, he tugged forward. 

 

The room was again filled with wet, slurping sound, flesh against flesh, and breathy moans. Soon enough, Dan felt hot and contracting sensation in his lower belly, and his breathing grew even more erratic. The man was roughly thrusting into him now, and he couldn’t help but let out a moan every time the tip hit the back of his throat. 

 

He forced himself to slide his eyes open and stare at the unbelievably hot man, now thrusting into his mouth with little grunts. His glasses had slid down, enough to reveal the dilated, blue eyes. The eyes bore into his own brown one, and he felt his cock twitch in his tight jeans. The man’s pretty lips, which had fallen open to let out noises that went straight to Dan’s cock, pulled up into a smirk. His biceps quivered as he held Dan’s wrists in place.

 

The sight sent Dan finally over the edge, and he came, screaming, oblivious to his surroundings except for the wet noises and moans. The man came soon too, and Dan swallowed the hot and thick cum.

 

The man released him, and he fell back, panting. His lips felt swollen and abused, and he licked it. It felt surprisingly erotic. 

 

The man was already pulling up his boxers and jeans, buckling his belt again. He looked like sex itself; dark, messy hair, red and glistening lips, dilated pupils, flush in his translucent skin.

 

It was all coming back to him now. That man had broken into his lodge. That man killed Amy. And just now, he had sucked him off and actually _liked_ it.

 

_Fuck, this is bad_. Dan dropped his eyes and stared at the wooden floor. His eyes trailed off to the tattered knees of his jeans. _Oh my god oh my god oh my god —_

 

The man pulled him up, cutting through his train of thoughts. He was much more gentle this time, taking care not to hurt him, and guided him to the bed, where he lay him down. “Sorry, but I’ll have to go out to check if there’s anybody else in this house. I’ll have to tie you up.”

 

Dan didn’t answer. He lay silent, drowning in thoughts, as the man taped his wrists and ankles together behind his back. He lay distorted, his limbs sticking out awkwardly. 

 

“Don’t you dare scream or anything,” hissed the man, already at the doorway. “If you utter any sound, I’m going to come back and finish you.”

 

He nodded. Only breathing through his nose, he clamped his mouth shut and lay in silence, listening for footsteps.

 

He hadn’t even said a proper goodbye to his family yet. His brother — if he dies, William is going to be traumatized for the rest of his life. Not that he liked that little fucker — he was a pain in the ass. But still.

 

But no one was going to want to talk to him now. He was a dirty whore. He had actually _liked_ being raped — well, he mused that it wouldn’t even be considered rape, as he was basically asking for more, wanting more. 

 

_Why do I like it?_

 

When the man returned, he whispered, “Is — is Amy really dead? Please tell me she isn’t dead. Please. She can’t be dead.”

 

“She’s dead,” said the man. He didn’t seem much affected, and he approached the bed where Dan was lying on, his eyes roaming over his distorted figure. Dan could feel himself blushing, but he looked at the man with all the pitifulness he could muster; maybe the man would take pity in him and let him go.

 

“Why… why Amy?” He sobbed. “She didn’t do anything.”

 

“Because she was with you,” replied the man. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat on it, inspecting Dan. “I’ve been hired by your former husband — what was his name, Brad? — to kill you. Sorry if that’s shocking to hear.”

 

Brad. _Shit._ The man Dan had married a few years ago, a gang leader. He hadn’t known that the loving, caring Brad wasn’t actually him. When he had discovered that Brad was involved in a gang and crimes, he immediately confronted him about it. 

 

That had been the night where Brad had let his true character show. He remembered it clearly.

 

_“Brad,” he said. His knees were shaking. His husband was not the kind of man to hurt an animal, let alone another human-being. “What’s this I hear about you being in a gang?”_

 

_“What?” Brad looked up from his newspaper. His previously warm smile had gone, and there was only hardness in his face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”_

 

_Dan flinched. Brad never directed curse words at him. Sure, when he was angry sometimes, he yelled at him and called him bad things, but he had never cursed at his face._

 

_“I just — I just heard that,” he wasn’t sure if he should continue or not. The veins in his husband’s face were popping out by every second. He asked in a small voice, “Did you… hurt someone?”_

 

_Suddenly, everything was a blur. When he could focus again, he was pinned against the kitchen cupboard, held by his throat. Brad was glaring into his eyes, and this wasn’t like the let’s-have-a-sexy-rough-sex kind of situation, it was more of a one-more-word-and-you’re-dead kind._

 

_Dan tried to speak, but he could only let out a choking sound._

 

_“Shut up,” snarled Brad, and he pushed Dan against the cupboard even more, crushing the air out of his body. Then, he whispered harshly into his ear, “If you tell anyone that, consider yourself dead.”_

 

Brad had let him go after that, but Dan was too shaken up. A few days later, he secretly filed a divorce paper, and Brad yelled and cursed at him when he found out. But it hadn’t mattered. Dan was free from the monster.

 

“Brad,” he rasped, remembering. “He won’t — he wouldn’t do that. He loved me.”

 

“Love?” snorted the man. “I don’t think that man has ever heard of the “L” word yet, let alone feel it.”

 

“What does he want?” Dan said. Tears began to form in his eyes, and he let them fall. He shifted so that he was looking at the blurry form of the man clad in black. “Money?”

 

“Mmm, pretty much, yes. He wants the insurance.”

 

Exhaling, he tried to regain his composure. _No, no, no, no, this wasn’t happening._ He thought he was free from his former husband. That was what his lawyer told him. He could see the judging eyes of his family, and the remorseful eyes of Will boring into his eyes. He hadn’t told them why he was getting a divorce; they had already turned their backs on him when he came out as bisexual. They couldn’t have helped him.

 

“Please let me go.”

 

“Sorry. You must understand, in the contract killing, there is no such thing as a witness left alive. This is business.”

 

“Please, please, please,” Dan begged is a breathy voice. His throat felt as if it was closing in on itself. “I — I’ll do anything you want. Please.”

 

“You could identify me,” mused the man. He cocked his gun.

 

At the ominous sound, lightning seemed to strike through Dan. “I would never identify you,” he shouted. “Please, I would never identify you. I wouldn’t. I won’t.”

 

The man glanced at the charged gun, then at Dan again. Sighing, he said, “Well, I do have a thing against killing attractive young men.”

 

Before Dan could wrap his head around that the emo-haired man had called him an ‘attractive young man,’ the intruder was taking off the tape from his wrists and feet. Dan flexed them, trying to get back some feeling into them.

 

Then, the man took out a camera and took a picture of him before he could even take a nice enough pose. ‘Great,’ he thought. ‘Now that guy will have a photo of my double chin.’

 

“If you identify me, my organization will be shown your picture, and you and your family will be killed.” The man adjusted his glasses and put the gun back to its holster. “Got that?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed. “I won’t.”

 

 

*

 

 

“Sherlock, a prisoner from Pentonville Prison escaped. He’s a top priority prisoner, and the whole England is in danger if he isn’t caught as soon as possible. You have to —”

 

“I don’t _have_ to,” Sherlock cut in sharply. “I’m a consulting detective, not a Scotland Yard’s pet. If you have a brain, use it to catch your prisoner.”

 

“Sherlock,” John hissed from the kitchen. “Be nice to Greg. He’s had a rough week. He must’ve been pretty desperate to come to you.”

 

“And what’s that’s supposed to mean?” he whispered back, glaring at the man swirling his cup of tea. John shrugged, and he got back on the phone.

 

“Seriously, when are you two getting married?” Lestrade scoffed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

“This is no time for jokes,” he said in a monotone. “Weren’t you just gossiping about a… what was it? A top-priority prisoner escape?”

 

“Philip Michael Lester. That man’s a psychopath. Come to think of it, you two might get along well together.”

 

Rolling his eyes, he merely responded with a mild scoff.

 

“Anyway, as I was saying, that man’s a psychopath. He’s been arrested several times now, the first one being when he was 22, for armed robbery. He’s committed a few murders, too.”

 

“Oh, murders. That always spice things up a bit.” He ignored John shooting a warning glance at him from the kitchen. 

 

Lestrade ignored him. “Lester has done some crazy things. Stole a government-owned helicopter, pulling phony on big companies. But what makes him so special, if you could call it that, is his ability to manipulate people to fulfill his needs. He can pull a nice and quite frankly charming personality. But his actual character is violent and often homicidal.”

 

“Interesting,” he muttered.

 

“Yeah, thought you’d be interested in him. Anyway, you in? Oh, and this might take a bit of traveling. The Yard is almost certain that a man as intelligent as Philip Lester would not stay around in London after escaping.”

 

“Yes, yes.” He waved his hand in the air with dismissal as if Lestrade could see him. “I don’t have anything to do anyway.”

 

“Great. John coming?”

 

“As always.”

 

“Even better,” Lestrade chuckled.

 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

 

 


	2. Five Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Five years,” Phil said, still breathless. “Five years, how would you feel about me then? I could become a lawyer and get this mess all sorted out.”
> 
> Five years.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

 

The emo-haired man glanced at Dan, startled from his thoughts. He seemed to chew on the question for a bit before saying, “Michael Smith.”

 

Dan choked back a laughter. “What kind of dumb name is that? It’s not your real name is it? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

 

‘Michael’ toyed with the gun in his hand before replying with a slight smile, “Philip.”

 

Phil.

 

The name fit the man perfectly. Not to formal but not too silly. The man — Phil — looked so much different now with a name attached to his face. Phil with his alabaster skin, crooked nose, and blue eyes.

 

“Well, hi, Phil,” he breathed, craning his neck from where he lay on the bed to look at Phil in the eye. “Do you know my name?”

 

It struck him that that was a dumb question. The man had signed a contract to kill him, of course he would have heard his name from Brad.

 

“Yeah. Daniel James Howell?” said Phil with a slight smirk.

 

“You can call me Dan.”

 

“Well, hi, Dan.”

 

 

*

 

 

Sherlock loomed over a large map, eyeing the places where red tacks were pinned against, marking the places where Lester had been seen. _Pattern. Look for a pattern._

 

“Lester have been seen at a clothing store in France last time. He was seen wearing all black, with black spectacles. Nobody accompanying him, apparently. But we can’t be sure that he is all by himself; he’s had a handful of accomplices in the past.”

 

He waved his hand in the air, practically spelling _‘shut up, I’m thinking’_ in the air. “Useless.”

 

“Wha — What — How is that _useless?_ It’s information. We. Need. Information,” sputtered Lestrade, stressing his last sentence. He was gripping at his hair with a desperate scowl on his face. He had been briefing Sherlock and John on what the Scotland Yard knew about Philip Lester, the escaped convict, when he had been so rudely interrupted.

 

“Not important,” Sherlock muttered. John shot a glance at him, but he stubbornly kept his eyes on the map. Tapping his fingers on the paper, he tried to imagine which way he would run if he were a convict. “Lester is highly intelligent, as you have described to me before. He can manipulate people. He can manipulate _data. Think.”_

 

“Yeah, but the sightings —”

 

“What if,” John interrupted. Sherlock glanced at him, grateful for the cease in Lestrade’s whining. “The people who claimed to have seen Lester at those places were actually accomplices? There _have_ been false sightings before, you know. Isn’t that how the jewelry thief escaped last time?”

 

“Exactly. It isn’t even remotely hard to have people report fake things to the police these days. Especially with the stupid officials.” He could feel Lestrade’s glare, but he merely rolled his eyes. “So, by that, we can conclude…?”

 

John came by his side and peered at the map himself. Sherlock flinched as John’s cheeks brushed slightly against his arms, and he tried to hide his blushing. 

 

“So, he used these people to lead the police to lead them astray… he’s somewhere else… but where?” John looked at him with anticipation in his eyes.

 

Clearing his throat, he said, “Where is he most unlikely to be?”

 

“Hang on, are we talking about unlikely places now?” Lestrade cut in. “Sherlock, I told you, we need to find this psychopath as soon as we can. There’s no telling what Lester might do next — a mass homicide? That’s greatly possible. He’s killed people before. And he’ll do it again, if given the chance.”

 

Sherlock sighed. “Honestly, are you _this_ idiotic? Can you think for just one second with that stupid brain of yours? Well, I suppose not, as I have given all possible clues to solve this simple little puzzle, yet you still fail to solve it.”

 

“Sherlock, shut up,” said John sharply. “Greg, sorry, you know how he can be.”

 

“And what’s _that’s_ supposed to mean?”

 

“You don’t need to know. Now, where is the most unlikely places Lester can be?”

 

He huffed and tried to protest, but John’s glare silenced him. He begrudgingly continued, “Well, what are we already assuming that he went?”

 

“France,” replied Lestrade.

 

He sighed. “Yes, and France is…?”

 

There was a short silence, but John suddenly said, “Abroad. Then you mean…”

 

“Yes.”

 

John ignored him and continued, “Lester is still in England.”

 

*

 

 

Dan let his eyes flutter open and was instantly blinded by the morning light pouring through the window. Groaning slightly, he shifted, turning to his side, only to be greeted by Phil lying next to him. He felt his heartbeat soar, and blood rushed to his face. 

 

Phil was silently staring at him, his eyes staring straight into Dan’s eyes. The sunlight touched Phil’s skin gently, making it seem like it was glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. His straight, black hair was messy, but in a good way. The way it made Dan want to run his hand over them and stroke them.

 

_What the fuck_ , he echoed in the back of his mind. This was a murderer, not his — not his _lover_ , or whatever. Was he actually going crazy?

 

“Hi, Dan,” murmurs Phil softly. _Had Phil been watching him sleep?_

 

“Hi.”

 

Suddenly, Phil leaned forward, and Dan felt his eyes widen. Giggling, he caught Phil’s head and gently pushed it away. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

 

Phil hummed, though looking disappointed. There was a soft smile on his lips, and his eyes seemed to melt Dan. “What a hygienic young man.”

 

Smiling, Dan cuddled into Phil’s form, relishing in the smell of Phil’s shampoo and just _Phil._ Phil’s skin felt warm, his hair tickled his cheeks, and they were slightly sweaty, but he didn’t care. He could feel Phil’s heartbeat increasing along with his own beats.

 

Soon, Phil got up, making Dan whine at the sudden loss of warmth. “Don’t go yet.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Phil replied. “I have to make sure you don’t identify me.”

 

Dan opened his eyes to see the hard look on Phil’s face, all the softness gone. He felt cold, too cold. This wasn’t the Phil who had been trying to kiss him earlier. “Wha — What?”

 

“Just know that if you identify me, you and your family is going to get killed,” Phil said in a low voice that made Dan shiver. There was something… sexual in his tone, although it was the complete opposite of what he was actually saying. It made Dan think back to yesterday, when Phil had forced — no, _given_ — himself into his mouth and ruthlessly got what he had wanted.

 

“I won’t, I won’t,” he whimpered. He was staring wide-eyed at the man in front of him, looking with disbelief as the menacing intruder transformed back into his Phil again. “I promise.”

 

“I know you won’t,” Phil murmured, leaning down to caress his cheek with warm hands. Dan nodded, still wide-eyed and his cheeks flushed. After the quick gesture, Phil leaves the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Dan in the now-cold-room by himself.

 

“Shit,” he whispers to himself, covering his face with his hands. _He’s in so much trouble now._ It’s like he’s fallen into a vice-like trap, and he doesn’t know how to get out and, and… maybe he _doesn’t want_ to get out. Even though now he’s frantically searching for a way out, maybe he would hesitate when he finally did find the light coming in through the exit. He’s not sure what he _wants_ anymore.

 

After agonizing over his situation in bed, he finally gets up. God, he is like a train wreck, not just physically but also emotionally. He feels hungover, but he hadn’t drunk anything. He low key feels as if he’s floating in the ocean again, in the middle of nowhere, but also _somewhere_. 

 

Cheesy analogies and comparisons running through his head, he tentatively opens the door and walked out into the dark hallway. There were noises coming from the kitchen, and — delicious smell. Toast. And eggs, and bacon. It made his mouth water.

 

Phil was wearing an apron when he walked out of the kitchen, and his eyes brightened when he saw Dan standing awkwardly in the hallway outside the bedroom. “Oh! There you are. I’ve cooked breakfast for us. Hope you like bacon and egg sandwich.”

 

“I, um,” he stuttered, not knowing what to do. His eyes glanced at the multipurpose room a few feet in front of him, where Amy should be lying on the floor, her eyes glazed over with death. “Wow. Thanks.”

 

“Well, whatcha waiting for?” Phil said in a exaggerated Northern accent, a smile playing on his lips. “You not hungry?”

 

“It’s just…” He glanced at the room again, and Phil seemed to understand. “It’s just, Amy.”

 

“Oh, okay, you go inside the bedroom for a minute. I’ll take care of her in a jiffy and call you when I’m done.”

 

He scrambled back into his shelter, emotion welling in his throat. _What the fuck was happening?_ What the hell? Now this — this murderer wanted to cook breakfast for him? What about Amy? What about Dan’s life? What about everything?

 

Everything was a mess, and his brain seemed to be glitching with a virus. He didn’t know what situation he was exactly in, or what he was still doing here alive, or what that man planned on doing with him. 

 

A dull _thump_ brought him back to reality, and he shivered. That must have been Amy. Amy, his girlfriend. That he didn’t love anymore. But his girlfriend nevertheless, still lying dead while he was… what? Falling in love with her killer?

 

“You can come out now,” Phil called. He sounded like he was slightly amused by him being scared by a dead body. “No dead bodies.”

 

Slowly, he got up from his curled up position against the door and went out to the kitchen. His thoughts were still buzzing in his head, but they quieted down as he got near the food. He had to eat something; he hadn’t eaten anything yesterday, and he was starving right now.

 

Sitting down slowly, he eyed Phil suspiciously. There was no way of telling if there was poison in his food or not; but fuck that. He was too hungry to care much about anything right now. 

 

“Um, thanks,” he muttered, looking only at the food itself. He was surprised to find that the sandwich was actually pretty good-looking; he didn’t know why he was surprised, maybe he thought that murder criminals wouldn’t be good at cooking somehow. Apparently, he was wrong.

 

Phil took the seat opposite him, smiling at the way Dan was staring at the food. “It’s not poisoned, you know. I haven’t sunk _that_ low. If I wanted to kill you, I’d just put a gun to your head, not hide behind some food.”

 

Phil’s last sentence gave him chills, but he tried his best to ignore it and put on a smile. “Sorry.”

 

He tentatively took a bite; it was actually good. Very good. Once he confirmed that the sandwich wasn’t poisoned, he gobbled down the sandwich as fast as he could. After all, he couldn’t be sure if he will be fed during the next few days or so when he would still be held hostage by Phil. That brought the question into his head — was he a hostage?

 

“I could just kill that Brad guy, you know,” Phil said thoughtfully, munching on his own sandwich. “Take his money, run away with you.”

 

Dan blushed behind the bread. Was Phil actually considering fucking everything up just so that he could run away with him? Well, he had to admit, he didn’t entirely _hate_ the idea. 

 

“I’ll buy you a nice suit, and a good pair of shoes. I think I know a store where they sell something that would fit you. Do you want matching T-shirt?”

 

“I dunno,” he said in a small voice. He was trying his best not to smile. Why was Phil being so adorable? “If you want.”

 

“Of course I want to, why wouldn’t I want that?” Phil scoffed, but his affectionate smile flooded back in only a few seconds later. Reaching forward, he ruffled Dan’s hair, making him blush even more. “Why wouldn’t I want to have matching clothes with the cutest person on earth?”

 

He started to giggle uncontrollably, and Phil tried to look offended and failed miserably. “That was cringey as fuck.”

 

“No, it wasn’t,” began Phil, putting on his best indignant voice, but he fell into a giggling fit alongside with Dan, too. “That was my best romantic pickup line! You ruined it.”

 

After a choking fit of laughter, they gathered themselves and smiled at each other from across the table. _We probably still look disgusting,_ Dan thought mildly in the back of his head, which only made him grin even more. 

 

“But really,” Phil said suddenly in a serious voice. “I want to be with you.”

 

He felt his grin slipping off his face, and his cheeks heating up. He couldn’t look away from Phil’s eyes; it was like Phil had him captured, right on the spot. _Entranced,_ he thought. _Entranced is the word._

 

“Me too,” he whispered before he could properly think about what was happening. “I don’t know why, but me too.”

 

Phil smiled softly, and Dan focused on his lips. He could just lean in right now. He _could_. He _should_. Wait, no, he shouldn’t. _No. But why not?_

 

Suddenly, their little moment was over, and Phil stood up to clean their plates. With his eyes cast down, he stood up, too, and helped Phil with the dishes. He couldn’t help but flinch when his fingers brushed against Phil’s. Come to think of it, that was weird. Very weird. He’d literally had that man’s dick in his mouth yesterday, so why was he being so sensitive now? Nothing made sense. In fact, he would be surprised if anything made sense at this point.

 

Phil drags him — not by his hair this time, but rather in a giggling and soft manner — outside the house for the afternoon, looking out at the sea together and holding hands. Phil even takes photos of him with his phone, saying that he looks ‘too pretty to be real,’ which makes Dan blush like crazy. 

 

All this was surreal. Everything felt like a dream. He was hyperaware of every sudden movement Phil — or, The Man — makes, fear spiking through him, but he couldn't also deny that he’s actually _falling_ for him. For fuck’s sake.

 

Two days went by like that, them basically being domestic husbands. There were little moments scattered throughout the days, but they always slipped by before they could act on it. 

 

Dan gave Phil a back rub when he complained about a back pain. Phil talked constantly about getting him a nice suit and shoes, and saying that he’ll ‘make it up to him.’ 

 

It striked him that Phil was trying to fill in Amy’s place. Maybe he should have cared, but he didn’t. It only filled his heart with a mysterious warm feeling. 

 

On the third night, after a trip to downtown, they clambered back into the lodge, shivering and giggling. They lighted the fireplace and sat in the couch, watching the fire silently.

 

Dan stared at the way the warm glow of fire danced of the pale skin of Phil, and he felt his heartbeat quicken when he saw that Phil was doing the same. 

 

“I could get out of the killing business,” Phil mused quietly in the dark. “You know, just… disappear or something.”

 

“Yeah,” Dan replied his voice slightly slurred from his comfortableness. He leaned into Phil’s warm body, snuggling into the crevice of his neck. “You could.”

 

“I want to sit here by the fire forever,” Phil sighed dreamily. His hand ran through Dan’s hair, roughing it up and then smoothing it again. “I can protect you… and maybe we can have a future together. Maybe. Just maybe.”

 

Dan didn’t reply. _Maybe. Just maybe._ Hope and fear and _what the fuck_ ran through his mind, all mingled into one, and he just couldn’t bring himself to care that he was in a pretty fucked up situation right now. What did the world know? They didn’t know Phil. Phil… he actually _did_ care for him.

 

He felt Phil shift against him and looked up to find Phil’s face so close to his. Phil’s eyes were soft and _sad,_ and he looked actually _regretful_. He no longer knew what to name the feeling inside his chest — fear, sadness, maybe even love, he didn’t care. 

 

“Can you ever forgive me?” Phil murmured, his eyes capturing Dan again and his warm breath ghosting over Dan’s nose.

 

Maybe Phil means breaking into the lodge, maybe he means killing Amy, or maybe he means making him suck him off yesterday. Did that happen? Dan feels as if he’s meeting this soft and gentle man for the first time ever today. No, he decides, that menacing man that had killed Amy is not Phil. That Man’s trying to escape Phil’s body, trying to resurface and threaten Dan, but it definitely isn’t Phil.

 

“I forgive you,” he breathed, his voice hitching slightly when Phil’s hands cup his face gently. “I do.”

 

Suddenly the room was quiet and all he could hear is the crackling of the fire and their mix breathing, probably a bit too heavy to be normal. But he couldn’t help but let his breathing quicken when he looked into Phil’s eyes and found affection and protectiveness and _love_ there. 

 

He’s overcome with the urge to say it. He wants to say it. He should say it.

 

“I love you,” he whispered, barely audible over the fire. 

 

Phil’s eyes widened slightly, but then he whispered, “I love you, too. So much.”

 

Something warm spread through his chest, and he could identify it now. 

 

Before he could process the situation any further, Phil leaned in and placed his lips on Dan’s hesitantly, as if he was giving Dan a chance to pull away if he wanted to. When Dan eagerly kissed back, he deepened the kiss. 

 

All at once, he was licking at his lips, asking for entrance, and Dan gasped, letting his lips fall open. Phil’s tongue scoured every inch of his mouth, and it reminded him of their first kiss — if they could call it that — from yesterday, but this one was so much more intimate. 

 

He moaned slightly when Phil’s tongue licked his own, and Phil growled at the back of his throat. Shifting, Phil straddled him, trapping him against the couch. The kiss was getting desperate, and the room was getting too hot. Dan let his hands scrape through Phil’s hair, messing the perfectly straight strands.

 

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and pupils dilated,

 

“Five years,” Phil said, still breathless. “Five years, how would you feel about me then? I could become a lawyer and get this mess all sorted out.”

 

_Five years._

 

“Yes,” he whispers back, tears in his eyes. It doesn’t really make sense, his answer, both grammatically and logically, but he doesn’t care.

 

_Five years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter :) Please leave kudos and a comment below if you liked it(or have a constructive criticism, in which case it is always appreciated!)<3
> 
> (Also, would you guys mind if I switch from writing past-tense to present-tense from now on? ex. 'He said' -> 'He says.' I unconsciously keep trying to write present-tense, despite my efforts not to ;-; I might go back and change all the previous chapters to present-tense writing after I finish this fic if I'm not too lazy but that's a low possibility xD)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter :) FYI, this fic is actually heavily based on an actual case. I'm not gonna say which one because... well... that would be a spoiler for this whole fic xD
> 
> Also, I'm not sure which warnings I should use for this fic. Every line between consent and non-consent in vague here, soooo.... Please tell me if I should add any more warnings or some warnings are non-applicable to this fic! :)
> 
> PS. This was my first time ever writing smut, so please don't judge to harshly >.< Please tell me if you liked it or not? And what could I improve on? Constructive criticism is always appreciated!


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